Scarecrow Reflections
by Morhighan
Summary: Follow Dr. Crane as he performs experiments. Track the writings in his laboratory notebook. His lab is the world.
1. Beginnings

_Everything has its beginning. Most start with an introduction of some sort. If that is the case, then allow for me to introduce myself. I am Doctor Jonathan Crane._

Dr. Crane paused in is writing in order to remind himself once again why he was doing this. After all, writing detailed accounts of his days was more than enough evidence, should he be apprehended, and should the journal be found.

Alas, the scientist within him would not be placated until he did so. He supposed that it would aid his research, so he would not have to memorize everything. And, in the long run, if everything worked in his favor, the historical value of such documents would be immense.

Coming out of his thoughts, he realized that he had been absent mindedly doodling on the page. So much for "historical value" and "serious research." He sighed, ripping out the offending pages and rewriting his prior statements. He continued.

_This journal is to be my lab journal--that is, the place a record my scientific findings._

At this he had to smile a bit. A laboratory journal, hm? And what was his laboratory? Why, the world was his laboratory. The environment, the people within it, circumstances, all was data conducive to his research. As much as he and the outside world may have detested each other, there was a definite need involved. One would not be without the other, he supposed.

_My experiments will begin shortly._


	2. Insides

AN: By the by, this is all based off of writing prompts, of which there are approximately 105 in number. Each writing prompt is a simple word, meant to trigger some sort of response, and this is what I am coming up with. So forgive any seemingly random topic that comes up in this. If you are curious to know what the prompt is, the title of the chapter indicates it. Also, forgive the shortness of most chapters.

Twilight-hater97 – Good to know there are 97 of us. ;) Anyhoo, Thank you for the review, I'm pleased to know that the beginning was satisfactory. I completely agree with the laboratory comment. It really is.

Scarecrow 65118 – Here's your hope fulfilled, I hope that it is satisfactory. It's a promising idea, I just hope I can keep it up.

_I title this entry "Insides." This is because that title will trigger the memories of this particular stage of the experiment. The work "insides" may refer to several things, including being a slang term for the inner workings of the human body. In other words, the organs. The guts._

Dr. Crane leaned back from the paper, steepling his fingers in thought. He had not used such crude linguistics since his Georgia days. No matter. Back to the science.

_What I am referring to, of course, is what my toxin leaves behind after I introduce it within a subject. I have found, after many post-mortem examinations, is that practice does indeed make perfect. After many attempts, I have perfected a means of making my toxin untraceable. It is not truly perfect, for it does leave behind some basic component traces, but it is far superior to my early attempts, and is as perfect as I can make it. Should the subject in question be examined and tested, one might assume that they had been in contact with LSD and some other hallucinogens. Traces of all other chemical components are otherwise inconclusive, appearing to be natural. Should one be looking for my secrets, they will find nothing. Naturally, I shall keep such things in my memory, not to be accessed in writing. It would not be conducive to my research in someone found a way to counteract it using the science against me._

Here he frowned a bit, before glancing behind him, where a body lie on a table. He had already tested it after introducing enough of the toxin to introduce a heart attack. His lip twitched upwards in memory of the event. The subject had literally been scared to death, as had many at his hands. He turned back to his writing.

_This subject, subject "D," has been considered a success. This one, as many have been, was introduced to a strong dose of the toxin, and never recovered their faculties pre-mortem. I believe it is time to introduce the next phase of the experiment._


	3. Days

AN: I have about 7 chapters written out, it just takes me about a day to type them up, since I am not motivated sometimes. So we'll probably have updates every two days (don't hold me to that) and maybe an extra update on the weekend. So Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Sound good to you? Positively hellish to me, but I relish it. After all, this gives me something to do in class.

Twilight-hater98—I'm glad you think so. They get progressively better as I get a feel for the character, I find. We could be an army of sanity in mad times, with that many.

Thank you for the favorites and watches and all that. It's quite an honor.

_--_

_Ch. 3 Days_

Days. Plural for day. A unit of time made up of twenty four hours, which could be split into sixty minutes with sixty seconds each. One can take a calculator and figure the exact numbers themselves, or look it up on a computer. A day, consisting of roughly twelve hours of light, twelve hours of day, give or take depending on the season. Assigned to six to eight hour work days, humans rest for eight hours and frolic the rest. Careless creatures.

Of course, this is just an average, based on an ideal Gothamite student. The youth are forced in to a scheduled life in order to prepare for adulthood. Mild discrepancies in the formula do not count in this estimation. It is assumed that every one will conform to said schedule. Eventually, as the youth grow older, the schedule becomes part of them. They cannot function without it. Unable to think, they are unable to do, should anything threaten the illusion of order in which they live. Without being told what to do, they have no idea of what to do with themselves.

However, not everyone follows the schedule. Take Dr. Crane, for instance. In a state of extreme focus, he forgets to take care of basic needs, such as food and sleep. He had been at his task, almost unstopping, for several days. He is tireless in his duty. He had been scheduling. It started with a calendar and some mathematic estimations. It was now a full science, an obsession. He had scheduled every day for the span of time he believed it would take to complete his experiment.

This experiment would take up his time for quite a span of it. He was thrilled at its prospects. His socially cultivated instinct was thrilled to have a schedule. His organized, scientific mind submitted easily to it. His animalistic half couldn't wait for the coming excitement. The thrill of the hunt, the chase, the capture. He relished it.

It was now time to plan other components. After all, this would take much time and preparation. The scheduling was done. He stood, stretched, quite stiff after days of sitting in the same spot. He wandered to the bed and stares up at the ceiling after reclining. His agitated mind took some time to slow, and finally he drifted to sleep.


	4. Months

AN:

Lolipear—I too am curious as to how it will turn out. I haven't the foggiest; I just write aboutwhat the prompt tells me to.

Thank you for reading, reviewing, and adding. It is quite an honor.

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Months. There are twelve in a year, each made up of four weeks, approximately 28-31 days. Three months to a season, of which there are four.

Dr. Crane had worked on his estimations for a little over a season. It was time, he decided, to put his plan into action. He left the house. It was the first time he had done so in weeks. Squinting at the harsh, unfamiliar light of the outdoors, he began walking. He needed a test subject. One that was preferably unable to be traced back to him. Thus, he would have to pick at random, so that no discernable trail could be traced. He would have to go out of his way to acquire the perfect subject. It would probably take some time, some observation before striking. He might even have to create a distinct persona for the sake of gaining the subject's trust and luring them in. He couldn't simply find a patient at Arkham, no, not any more, having recently escaped its confines himself. It was a shame, to be certain, but he had to let go of such luxuries as having ample amounts of test subjects available for his use. No, now he would have to track someone in the "wild" of Gotham; to become a hunter. He may even have to enter the social scene, disguised of course, in order to fetch a subject.

He visited the park, observing people. He had never truly people-watched before, except for his job, and found that it was actually quite amusing, despite the dullards that he was surrounded with. The person he was looking for would ideally be alone. Someone with a weak, malleable ego. It was on the transit system home that he saw it. The perfect subject.

Female, young—in her twenties. Shy, gaunt, and bookish looking, she seemed to have a target printed on her person. It was all in her body language. She stooped slightly, her shoulders hunched, as though she were trapped in a perpetual ducking motion. She flinched occasionally. He could not tell at first if it were a nervous tic, or caused by stimuli. It became soon apparent that it was not caused by drug use or a muscle tic, as far as he could tell, but rather a genuine nervousness.

A perfect subject. Now he only needed to lure her to his observation room. It was the basement of his current home, a makeshift laboratory. However, he could not very well kidnap her, in the light of day. True, dusk was nearing, but still. She prepared to get off at a stop, and he followed suit. She eventually came to an apartment complex, which she entered. He walked past her, cautious as ever, before turning the corner of the building and circling around so he could observe her. He found her entering one of the flats.

So, she was not as cautious as she would liked to have thought. On their walk, she had occasionally checked over her shoulder and gone through several other cautionary motions. They were all casual, well practiced moves. She repeated one of the movements, looking over her shoulder, before ducking into the house. She did not notice him. He waited, taking notice of the address. 2-21B. It was committed to his memory. He was about to leave for home when she reemerged. He stared, surprised at her transformation.


End file.
